


Always a Con-Man

by Turianne



Category: Left 4 Dead (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Reader-Insert, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-17
Updated: 2018-03-17
Packaged: 2019-04-03 15:53:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13999512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Turianne/pseuds/Turianne
Summary: You are together with a white suited man during this zombie apocalypse. The both of you believe you are the only ones left alive until you come across other survivors. You knew you could trust the man—but after a deal, you wanted him gone.





	Always a Con-Man

**Author's Note:**

> So I've gone back to play L4D2 endlessly with my friends and holy crap do I love Nick so much. His quotes are the best thing in the game in my opinion. My friends have been trying to get me to stop playing as Nick but I love him so much. I was searching through fanfics and there's super old fanfics of L4D2 so I decided to bring this back.
> 
> Also, this is going to be sort of like a mix of the original L4D2 with TWD/TLoU. (I don't mean adding the main characters, I mean plot wise. Hence why I put AU in the tags, just to be safe.) I hope that's alright.

“Shit,” you mumbled underneath your breath as you pressed a firm hand to your thigh. Blood was flowing in between your fingers as you limped your way towards the corner of a flooded and abandoned home of the now infected bayou civilians. Dried and hardened mud covered most of your face as well as your legs and arms. You had given up using your shirt after your medkit’s alcohol pads had run out. Now, you wished you had those alcohol pads so you would be able to get rid of any dried blood that would stick after patching up. You cut open your jeans to reveal the new gash wound on your leg. An idiotic survivor believed you to be infected and stabbed you with a small combat knife. Unfortunately, you had defended yourself and killed the poor man which made you wonder if now you were the only one left alive.  
  
As you began patching your leg carefully, you felt your eyes beginning to sting. The only uninfected person you had last seen had been the man that tried to kill you because he was crazed due to the infected surrounding the area. You couldn't blame him, but you felt horrible for ending his life right there and then with no explanation. As you finished patching yourself up, you let your head fall back and hit the wall that you were leaning on. The impact wasn't hurtful, but you hoped it wouldn't attract zombies.  
  
You stayed in the corner for what seemed hours. You had given up on looking for CEDA, every time you arrived to an evaluation spot, they would be long gone. _It's not fair,_ you thought to yourself as tears finally began to fall and run down your cheeks. _This is all because a stupid scientist did something wrong, and we all paid for it._ You let one of your hands run through your dirt filled hair and sighed before finally getting up and moving on quietly to the restroom of the house. You hoped this place had its water running as you slowly turned the knob of the sink. Dirty water came out first before it began to clear up and you rejoiced.  
  
After washing out the mud from your hair, face and arms, you turned the knob once more to close it. You were finally clean once again, even though you knew you'd be dirty one you stepped out of the house again. Although, your mind kept telling you to stay and rest. You knew you could rest for a few hours more since if a zombie was inside, they would be banging on the door to the upstairs room which would have to wake you up and you wouldn't be in immediate danger. Without second thought, you went upstairs and slowly closed the door behind you, trying to make little noise as possible. You checked everywhere in the room just in case there were any zombies inside.  
  
None.  
  
You made your way to the bed and began taking off your backpack that carried your supplies and ammunition and put it on the floor beside the bed. As you laid down, you began to relax, feeling a few bones popping due to how tense you were throughout all of this. Without any time to waste, you had knocked out the few seconds you lay on that bed.

 

* * *

 

You didn't wake up. Not even the footsteps of someone rushing upstairs had woken you, or the fact that they felt they had the audacity to steal your protein and candy bars. When you finally awoke, you saw your backpack open and most of your bars taken. At least they had left some behind for you. _Wait,_ you thought. _Another survivor!_  
  
Without any hesitation, you gathered your things and rushed downstairs, getting out of the house and rushing through the swamp. You didn't care about anything anymore other than finding that survivor. Your heart leaped as you walked through the murky waters. They had taken most of the protein bars and a few candy bars, you wondered if they were healthy or simply hated sweets. Or maybe they just didn't like chocolate since the protein bars you carried were also sweet. You didn't notice the smile across your face until you felt it fade when a horde of zombies began running towards you.  
  
You lifted up your suppressed pistol and thanked your long passed father for being in the military and teaching you how to shoot a gun and because he had told you the code to the family's safe just in case an emergency happened. Due to your pistol being suppressed, the zombies almost never gathered around to attack you as a horde, but something had triggered the massive pack of the living dead towards you. Perhaps you had chosen a bad time to take the time and clean yourself. Maybe they could smell your flesh easier than when you were filled with mud.  
  
You were careful to aim precisely at the heads of the infected as you trotted back a few steps before beginning to run for your life. You had never had to face so many infected at once, you were always careful with your ammunition and where you'd step. A horde like this was the last thing you would've want to face alone. You followed the signs that showed where a safehouse would be at and continued without looking back once. You didn't want to stop and have every infected rip your body open.  
  
The safehouse was closer than you thought. Your distance towards the door was closing in fast and and you put your hands in front of you, ready to barge in and close the door behind. But luck was not on your side. You ran into the door, and it didn't open. Your heart raced and tears formed in your eyes. You couldn't die like this. You had tried kicking the door, but it wouldn't budge. You then turned your back to the door and saw the horde of death running towards you, growling and screams became louder as you closed your eyes and prayed for safety. Or to at least be led to your family's warmth once again.  
  
Without any warning, you had fallen backwards. You heard the metal door slam shut and loud banging seconds later. Your eyes were tightly shut closed as you waited for any sort of pain of being ripped apart alive, but none came. Slowly, you opened your eyes and met the eyes of an older man. His expression was vacant before he walked over to move things in order to block the door. You were quick to stand and go to his side as you helped push a table towards the door.  
  
“I've got it,” you heard the man mumble as he continued to push the table.  
  
You stepped away and waited for the man to finish pushing the table to the door. The man hadn't even bothered to look at you afterwards, he simply picked up an assault rifle from another table before loading it and putting it down as he looked through a map of the bayou.  
  
“Th-Thank you,” you said awkwardly as you raised your empty hand to run the back of your neck. “Thank you for —”  
  
“Don't mention it,” the man cut you off right away. His attention stayed at the paper in front of him, yet his voice seemed annoyed. Was it because of you or because he was having trouble reading the map? It didn't matter to you though. Especially because you were in a safehouse with another survivor. Another survivor! This had to be the best thing to ever happen to you after your run in with the untouched vending machine.  
  
You stayed put and stared at the man, his hair was dark and slicked back—somehow it had stayed that way throughout all of this. He wore a white suit which had become dirty and was noticeable the man had been through many events since this zombie apocalypse started. At least the blue dress shirt underneath the suit looked cleaner than anything else he was wearing. What caught your attention most was his poker face. You wondered if the man was glad to see another survivor or just wanted to be alone.  
  
“Excuse me—”  
  
“I don't want to hear anything come out of anyone,” the man looked up at you with his light viridian eyes looking straight into yours. “So if you would leave, that would be better for the both of us.”  
  
“But, traveling together is better than wandering alone.”  
  
“Look, sweetheart, I traveled in a pack of four and only watched them get shredded by those bastards one after the other,” he stopped and took a breath in before looking back down at the map. “I'm better on my own. Run along, kid.”  
  
You stared at the man with slight disbelief, but you couldn't just go off on your own. You were scared, truly horrified. You wanted company after weeks of surviving and being on your own. “Well, you clearly needed my food.”  
  
He turned to look towards you, his face still inscrutable. “Finders keepers.”  
  
You swore you saw the corner of his lips twitch upwards before he turned back to the map. “ I found those bars.”  
  
“And I found them while you had your beauty sleep. You should be glad I didn't stab you while you slept.”  
  
“I am… And I'm simply asking to tag along at least until we find someone else.”  
  
“I highly doubt there is anyone else out there, and I don't want to take care of a kid.”  
  
“‘Kid’? I'm twenty-seven, mind you. And—if you haven't noticed, I can take care of myself.”  
  
“Good. Don't follow me.”  
  
The man took his weapon and medkit before walking over towards the safe room’s door, only to be stopped by your soft plead.  
  
“Please,” you managed to whimper out softly. “I've been alone since all of this started, I don't want to risk continuing like this and dying.”  
  
The man sighed deeply, his hand holding the door's handle firmly. He shook his head and mumbled incoherent words to himself that you could not make out. “Fine, just stay out of my way and follow my orders. If you slow down, I won't wait for you—so keep up.”  
  
With that, the man opened the door and you were quick to stand behind him. At least if you died, someone would remember you.

**Author's Note:**

> I came back to revise the first chapter a bit. Sorry if I got your hopes up (been having a rough couple of years), but you never know what I have planned. ;D


End file.
